


my heart's on fire with a strange desire

by 1dspoon (teaspoon)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Felching, First Time, Group Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Orgy, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Spitroasting, Suspect Fruit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspoon/pseuds/1dspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>As usual, it starts with Harry and a banana.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Mate, I’m not trying to be funny but that banana doesn’t look right,” Liam says, looking at the fruit in Harry’s hand.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It’s just got a bit of pink on it,” Harry responds, unconcerned.</i>
</p><p>***</p><p>Harry eats a highly suspect piece of fruit, and then everyone has sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart's on fire with a strange desire

**Author's Note:**

> [Bunners](http://foolishrabbit.tumblr.com) is responsible for cheerleading, hand holding, and alpha reading duties.

As usual, it starts with Harry and a banana.

“Mate, I’m not trying to be funny but that banana doesn’t look right,” Liam says, looking at the fruit in Harry’s hand.

“It’s just got a bit of pink on it,” Harry responds, unconcerned.

He deftly peels the banana from the bottom and takes a bite. Zayn rolls his head against the back of the sofa to look, making a face when he sees the faint pinkish hue to the otherwise yellow peel.

“I think Liam’s right. Why’s it pink?” He slaps out at Harry’s thigh. “Bananas aren’t supposed to be pink.”

“Dunno. Maybe it’s got some makeup on it or whatever.”

Zayn loses interest quickly, looking down at his phone. He’s focused on writing a reply and only looks up when Niall wanders in, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt, just a team jersey slung around his bare shoulders like a towel. He’s got a ball under his arm and he looks like he’s worked up a sweat.

“Is it hot out there?” Liam asks him.

“Yeah, it’s not too bad though. I was just throwing the ball around.” Niall puts on an American accent and adds, “Shootin’ some hoops.”

Harry sidles up to Niall, still holding the peel of the weirdly pink banana he’s finished eating, and wraps his arms around him, pressing his face against his neck.

“Harry, that’s gross, I’m all sweaty,” he protests, but he doesn’t push Harry off, letting him hang off him like a limpet.

Zayn wrinkles his nose. He hates feeling someone else’s sweat against his bare skin unless it’s after sex; it’s his one exception. He locks his phone and wedges it into the pocket of his skinny jeans.

“Where’s Louis?” he asks, mostly directly the question at Niall. Harry and Liam have been in here with him for at least the last half hour, taking advantage of the air-conditioning and cold beverages.

“Dunno,” Niall says, patting Harry absently on the back.

Louis’ familiar accent cuts sharply through the momentary silence. “Did someone say my name?”

“Nice timing, Tommo.”

Liam and Louis exchange high fives, and then Louis jumps over the back of the sofa and lands halfway on top of Zayn.

“Hi Zayner. Miss me?”

“Not for a second.”

Louis is busy messing up Zayn’s hair while Zayn half-heartedly bats his hands away, so neither of them are really paying attention to the others. Their heads pop up, startled, when they hear a commotion behind them.

“Oi! He licked me ear!” Niall says, using a hand on Harry’s chest to keep him at arm’s length.

“What’s got into you?” Liam asks, pulling Harry aside.

Harry just giggles and wraps his arms around Liam instead.

“That’s rank, Harry,” Zayn informs him. “You don’t know if Nialler’s cleaned his ears today.”

Shaking his head with fond disapproval, Liam cards his fingers through Harry’s long curls. Harry nuzzles into his touch, mouth hanging open exaggeratedly like a pleased puppy.

“This band is so weird,” Louis says primly, as though he’s never given anyone a lovebite or tried to rip Liam’s clothes off.

***

The show that night is rowdy, awash with energy like it’s been for the whole of the North American leg so far. Despite his reputation for being more reserved, both on stage and in life, than the others, Zayn grins and plays along with everything: singing backup during Liam’s Michael Jackson moment, doing his part to pump up the crowd and wave to people near enough to the front that he can see them, hugging Niall and Liam when Harry tells people to spread the love. There are moments when things seem a bit off, a bit more over the top than usual, but it doesn’t all add up for him until later. The bright lights and the roar of the audience always make their time onstage feel surreal anyway, as if they’re breathing a different kind of air up there. The roughhousing and sexual innuendo, Harry dancing up on Liam, Liam and Niall spanking each other, none of it’s so far out of the ordinary that Zayn thinks anything of it until after the show.

“I’m buzzin’!” Liam exclaims as they make their way backstage again. He pours a bottle of water over his head and then shakes it off, droplets flying every which way.

Zayn’s about to tell him off for it, even though he’s so sweaty that it kind of feels good, but Niall interrupts him by coming up behind him and plastering his whole body to Zayn’s back. He smiles, reaching back to pat at Niall’s shoulder, and then Niall pushes his hips up against his bum and Zayn yelps.

“Niall!” He takes a stumbling step forward, steadying himself against Liam, who’s suddenly closer, right in front of him. “What’s the rule about boners?” Niall doesn’t respond, keeping his semi pressed against the back of Zayn’s thigh, and he looks to Liam for support.

Instead of coming to Zayn’s defence, Liam just looks down at his mouth and licks his lips. His eyes look unfocused, slightly glazed over like they get after he smokes up.

“Liam?”

Zayn pokes him in the chest, and Liam exhales deeply. There’s something on his breath, an unidentifiable sweet scent, and Zayn sniffs the air between them. As soon as he breathes in, it hits him: a jolt of arousal in the pit of his stomach. He feels itchy with it, the hairs on his arms standing up as he becomes acutely aware of his own skin, all the nerve endings in it firing at once. He wants to rub up against someone, wants to squeeze and lick and bite. He doesn’t realise that he’s got his mouth on Liam’s neck until he hears a low whimper.

He pulls back like he’s shocked, elbowing Niall in the stomach and dislodging him in the process. Liam and Niall look at him with matching pouts, Niall rubbing at his belly and Liam stroking over the mark on his neck, the perfect indentations of Zayn’s teeth.

“Why’d you stop?” he asks, looking so lost and sad that it makes Zayn’s throat close up.

He’s still fucking turned on, is the most messed up part of it. He just came onto Liam without any provocation but his dick is still chubbed up in his jeans, and he feels like a monster. Zayn swipes a hand over his mouth, eyes darting from Liam, who looks like a kicked puppy, to Niall, who’s got his hand pressed down over the outline of his dick in his jeans.

“Harry, stop!” Zayn hears behind him. All three of them turn to look at where Louis is slapping Harry’s hands away. He looks properly furious, his face red and his eyes narrowed.

Harry whines but he goes limp, his arms dangling in Louis’ grip.

“Fucking hell,” Louis spits out. “I told you to stop touching me.”

The air in the dressing room feels charged, like anything Zayn touches would give him a shock of static electricity. He watches as Harry pants in Louis’ face, looking wrung out and dejected, and he sees the exact moment when Louis takes a breath. He shudders, hands dropping from Harry’s wrists as he pushes forward into the other boy’s space, Harry meeting him in the middle.

Their hips grind against each other, dirty like they’re in a nightclub, and Zayn shakes off the haze of arousal long enough to step forward and grab Louis’ arm.

“Guys, stop. Something’s not right.”

It’s hard to focus when he still feels so worked up, his body turned on even as the conscious part of his brain struggles for control. Louis tries to shake off his hand, but he holds on tight, dragging him back from Harry a little. Harry blinks slowly at him through half-lidded eyes, and Zayn has a sudden flashback to when they used to pull together, the way Harry would look at a girl when he was trying to get her to take her clothes off. Once he’s not touching Louis anymore, Harry zeroes in on Zayn, sucking his own lower lip into his mouth and stalking over purposefully.

“Relax, Zayn,” he says, putting his hands on Zayn’s shoulders and speaking right into his face.

His breath has that same sweet scent that Liam’s did, and it takes a moment for Zayn to place it — it’s banana, but the real, fresh smell underneath the peel, not that artificial candy flavour. There’s something else there too, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on the odour for long, because he feels another pulse of arousal run through him, spiking higher as Harry stays in his space, staring at him and breathing steadily in and out like he doesn’t know what it’s doing to Zayn. He wants to push him away, but he also wants to bring him closer, to give in to the pull of attraction he feels with Harry’s mouth so near his own, his body radiating heat and a clean, boyish scent under the sweat from the concert.

The only reason Zayn doesn’t do something regrettable is that Paul’s voice rings out from the corridor and then he’s opening the door. He leans against the doorframe and looks them all over.

“I don’t want to know. Guess you’re all showering back at the hotel, then.”

Paul stands there until they all start moving towards the door, all in a row like a bunch of chastised ducklings. The fact that they’re waddling a little because of their boners only adds to the impression, Zayn thinks as he brings up the rear. It takes a tremendous effort not to watch Louis’ arse the whole way to the van.

***

Mercifully, Paul corrals them all into the back and then sits up front without another word to them, going into capable tour manager mode. Zayn’s dimly aware that breathing on each other has something to do with how unbelievably horny he is, and he doesn’t want to think about what’ll happen if they breathe on anyone else.

Zayn’s sat next to Louis in the front row of seats, with Liam and Harry directly behind him and Niall alone in the last row. He twists around so he can speak to them, and has to snap his fingers in Liam’s face to get him to focus.

“You’ve got to hold your breath if someone gets close to you, alright?” he whispers furiously, aiming for loud enough so they can all hear him but Paul and the driver can’t.

As he’s speaking, Liam leans in and smells Zayn, humming in appreciation.

“Listen to me. Hey, listen to me. Don’t breathe on anyone, just get your key from Paul and then we’ll all go into my room and we’ll sort this out.”

“Okay,” Harry says, drawing out the last vowel and nuzzling against Liam’s neck.

“Pull it together, lads,” Louis chimes in, and Zayn shoots him a grateful look.

If it weren’t for the way he keeps licking his lips, his palm splayed out over his thigh, Zayn would think the effect had worn off on Louis, but it’s clear that they’re all under the influence of something, just to varying degrees. So far, he and Louis seem to have the clearest heads, maybe because the other three were all over each other during the concert and had more time to spread the pheromones or whatever the fuck amongst themselves — he’s just glad they didn’t manage to pass it on to the audience. The thought makes him shudder.

They arrive at the hotel shortly, where security bundles them through the carpark and up into the lift with a minimum of fuss. Paul hands out the little envelopes with their key cards, and if he notices them all breathing through their noses, he doesn’t say anything. Zayn’s relieved that the boys are listening to him even though none of them knows what’s going on.

“Just gonna hang out in my room for a bit, like,” Zayn tells Paul quickly, opening his door and practically shoving the others inside.

“Okay, call if you need me.”

He nods and follows the boys into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“We need to figure out what the fuck is wrong with all of us,” he says.

Only no one’s listening, because Liam and Harry are making out, and Niall’s wriggling out of his shirt while Louis get on his knees in front of him.

“Guys!” Zayn can feel a headache coming on, his body still wound up tight from adrenaline and arousal.

Harry disengages from Liam and slinks over, getting his arms and one leg wrapped around Zayn like some kind of octopus.

“Get off,” he says, weakly. Harry is warm and his cock is pressed against Zayn’s stomach, and he really just wants to rut against him.

“I’m trying,” Harry whispers. The terrible joke shouldn’t be sexy at all, but the low pitch of his voice rubs over Zayn’s frayed nerve endings like velvet.

“Harry,” Zayn moans. He wants him so badly. He can’t focus on anything except the heat of Harry’s dick bleeding through both their clothing, his own cock thickening up so fast it almost hurts.

“Let me,” Harry says.

He pushes Zayn up against the door, both feet firmly planted on the ground now. His hips thrust forward at the same time that he grabs Zayn’s arse, and there, that’s it. The rough drag of denim on denim amplifies the sensation rather than dulling it, and he doesn’t want to think anymore, just wants to feel. Harry grinds against him, his head thudding against the door until a large hand cups the back of it, gentle even as Harry pins him there. Zayn knows he could stop it, still, but his body is crying out for more, desperate for release, and it’s so easy to let himself breathe in as Harry breathes out, sealing their lips together once he feels the familiar throb of heightened arousal. Harry’s mouth is wide and wet, and he still tastes like that banana, but with a tang of something else that bursts across his tongue like a tart blueberry.

“Yeah,” Harry says, when they break for air. “Come on, Zayn.”

Zayn pushes off from the door, using the momentum to propel them forwards. “Bed,” he says, and he doesn’t recognise his own voice, a throaty growl.

What he sees when he turns his head stops him in his tracks: Liam’s sucking kisses against Niall’s throat and shoulder as Louis works his jeans down his skinny legs. Harry lets out a groan when he sees Louis fist Niall’s cock, the pink tip of it sticking out of the circle of his thumb and forefinger.

Zayn’s mouth floods wet with want. By some unspoken agreement, he and Harry start undressing themselves, fingers gone clumsy with haste. Once he’s naked, he moves over to the other boys and sinks to his knees next to Louis, watching as he peels the foreskin back to reveal more of the head and licks the slit. Niall and Harry moan together, Harry now rutting against Niall’s hip and kissing Liam over his shoulder. Zayn looks up at them and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, except then Louis takes Niall’s cock into his mouth and he’s changing his mind, that’s definitely the hottest thing.

They’ve all talked about it a bit, whether they’d ever get off with another guy, but Harry’s the only one who has done. Zayn’s open to the idea, under very specific circumstances, and he supposes a band orgy is a circumstance he can live with, as long as everyone else is into it. He’s kissed Harry before, mostly at the request of girls they pulled, and he and Liam shared that one ‘accidental’ kiss when they were younger that he sort of wishes they’d talked about properly. But he doesn’t have time to think about these things when Louis is going down on Niall like he’s going for a gold medal in cocksucking. Even from the other end, Zayn can tell it’s good: all broad tongue and tight suction, spit trickling down from Louis’ wrecked mouth to where his hand is wrapped around the base.

“Fuck, gonna come,” Niall grunts. “Lou, gonna…”

Zayn gets his fingers in Louis hair, and when he doesn’t protest, he pushes his head down a little, helping him go further down on Niall’s cock, his lips meeting his fist. Niall lets out a long, loud moan as he comes in Louis’ mouth. Zayn holds him there while he swallows, and then pulls him off with a wet gasp. He kisses Louis for the first time, chasing the taste of Niall on his tongue, and it feels filthy and amazing all at once.

Niall sways on his feet, bracketed on one side by Liam and Harry, who are jerking each other off.

“Bed,” Louis says, hoarse but decisive.

As Niall reaches down to help Louis up, Zayn gets to his feet and pushes Harry and Liam along. They fall gracelessly onto the king-sized bed. Zayn yanks the rest of Liam’s clothes off before they get too comfortable, Niall and Harry make short work of Louis’, and then they’re all naked, hard except for Niall, whose cock is nestled in the hollow of his hip, soft and spent.

Harry climbs over Louis and says, “Hiii.” It would be endearing if he weren’t rubbing off against Louis’ belly, his arse grinding back against Louis’ dick. They kiss with surprising sweetness, Harry’s big hands holding onto his biceps, Louis’ earlier sharpness with him forgotten as they move together.

“Go on, Zayn,” Niall says, gesturing to Liam with his head. “Give Payno a big kiss.”

Zayn hesitates, just for a second. Liam’s lying down, propped up on his elbows and watching him with a sweet, encouraging smile like always. It makes it easy to crawl over him and give him a slow, lingering kiss. He tastes like mint gum and summer fruit, something fresh and perfectly ripe, and it sends a thrill up Zayn’s spine just as his belly clenches up with another wave of desire. He stops bracing himself over Liam on his arms and collapses forward, letting Liam catch him against his chest. A hand pets down his spine and he knows it’s Niall, can feel the different shape of his fingertips along the notches of his vertebrae.

He wiggles his hips and feels a zing of pleasure as his cock slides alongside Liam’s, the head catching in the hairs underneath Liam’s navel. The skin of Liam’s cock feels like nothing else, a hot velvety rub against his shaft that makes him moan, hearing an echo to his right immediately afterwards. Zayn turns his head to look at the others. Harry and Louis are on their sides, with Harry sandwiched in between Louis and Niall. He can hear the wet spank of Niall’s hand moving over Harry’s cock as Louis holds Harry’s thighs together and fucks in and out of the space between them.

Zayn swallows hard and focuses on Liam again, zeroing in on his mouth as it starts moving.

“I want…” Liam starts to say.

“Anything,” he promises, and he means it. He’s hot all over, turned on and hypersensitive. Liam could ask him to walk over broken glass and he’d do it as long as Liam got him off afterwards.

It’s unbelievably endearing that even under these circumstances, Liam still has it in him to blush. Zayn feels a rush of fondness as his fingertips chase the flush down the front of Liam’s throat to the top of his chest.

“I want to fuck you, Zayn, please?”

As soon as it’s out of his mouth, it’s the only thing Zayn wants. He doesn’t care that he’s never done it before, never had more than a cheeky finger up his bum during a blowjob. He shivers and nods again, not trusting his voice.

“Yeah?” Liam breathes, his face lit up with awed delight.

“You gonna fuck him, Liam?” Harry asks.

Zayn rasps out, “Yeah.”

“Don’t make me come,” he hears Harry say to Niall.

Louis snorts. “You can make me come.”

Niall lets out a happy little laugh, letting go of Harry’s cock. “Alright, Lou. Reckon I owe you one.”

They all reshuffle, Niall sitting up at the headboard with Louis settled between his legs, leaning back against Niall’s chest. Harry rises up into a kneeling position, long feet overlapping behind him, as Liam helps Zayn get on his hands and knees.

“I want you to suck me off while Liam fucks you,” Harry says, conversationally, like he’s talking about the weather.

Zayn groans. This was definitely not how he pictured the night ending, but he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt, and he remembers how hot it was, watching Louis go down on Niall. He can do this for Harry, for Liam. He can make them both feel good. He nods and licks over his lips, getting them wet.

The bed dips as Liam comes up behind him — Zayn hadn’t noticed him leaving, he’d been so focused on what Harry was saying, but now that Liam’s back he’s faced with the reality of what’s about to happen. He feels a sweet little burn of shame at how easy he is for it, but mostly there’s just want, desire so thick and heady that he feels high off it.

Harry brings his cock to Zayn’s mouth and just rubs the head over his lips for a bit, smearing precome all over like an obscene form of lipgloss. Zayn flicks out his tongue to taste it, and it tastes different from the bit of Niall’s come he tasted earlier. It’s not good or bad, really, just a bit salty with a hint of brine. He opens up for it when Harry guides the thick head into his mouth, just trying to remember to cover his teeth with his lips. He breathes through his nose and he can smell something that’s recognisably Harry but sharper, almost earthy in the humid vee of his legs.

A slick finger rubs over the cleft of his arse and he tenses. Liam and Harry both make soft shushing noises, Liam petting at his thigh and Harry running his fingers through his hair. Zayn feels trapped and cared for in equal measure, and he wills himself to relax. Harry pushes forward slowly, making him take it inch by inch, his cock massive and thick, the weight of it foreign on Zayn’s tongue.

When Liam gets his finger inside him, he sucks hard on Harry’s cock instead of moaning. It’s thicker than a girl’s finger, and he gets it in deeper — he’s never had a girl go in past the first knuckle, and even if he had, this is different. It’s Liam, moving his finger slowly in and out of the tight furrow of his arsehole, adding a second like he just knows Zayn can take it, and he does. He bobs his head on Harry’s dick, letting one unfamiliar feeling distract him from the other. It’s easier to relax if he doesn’t think about it too much, if he just focuses on the way Harry’s hand tightens in his hair as Zayn sloppily sucks at him.

Three fingers feels like an impossible stretch at first, but the sting of it fades quickly. His jaw is starting to ache, but Harry’s making these gorgeous little moans. If he strains his ears, he can hear Niall’s voice, though not his words, and Louis’ breathy panting as Niall jerks him off.

“Louis is getting off to you,” Liam tells him, as if he somehow knows what’s running through Zayn’s mind. “Niall’s wanking him and they’re both watching you. What d’you think, shall we give them a show?”

Harry pulls his cock out of Zayn’s mouth to let him answer.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

It’s barely above a whisper, but they can all hear him just fine in the quiet room. He takes the opportunity to look over at Louis, his cock flushed an angry red and leaking precome at the tip, easing the way of Niall’s hand. As if all he needed was Zayn’s attention on him, Louis gasps and comes all over his stomach. There’s nothing on his mind now except sex, and Zayn needs Liam inside him immediately.

Liam removes his fingers, leaving him empty and wanting.

“Please,” he begs, and then he can feel the blunt, insistent press of Liam’s cock against his entrance, stretching him wider.

There’s a feeling of relief when the widest part of his cockhead pops inside the hot clutch of Zayn’s body. Liam thrusts into him smoothly after that, one long slide until his hips meet Zayn’s arse and he’s completely filled.

“Alright, babe?” Liam asks, leaning down to kiss his shoulder.

“Mm, just. Gimme a minute.” He lets his head hang between his shoulders for a moment, breathes in and out before he nods. “Okay, you can move.”

Liam pulls back and thrusts in, slow rocking motions of his hips that make Zayn light up from the inside. Once Liam’s settled into a rhythm, Harry cups the back of Zayn’s neck and pulls him forward onto his cock again. It’s overwhelming, being filled up at both ends like this, as satisfying as scratching an itch he didn’t even know he had. He presses back into Liam’s thrusts, and he takes the cue, fucking into Zayn harder, pushing him towards Harry. For his part, Harry keeps a hand in Zayn’s hair to keep him from going down too far, considerate despite how long he’s been on the edge. Zayn loves his boys so much. He wishes Niall and Louis were touching him too, wants them all around him, but he can’t speak with his mouth full.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Harry says, mindlessly tugging at Zayn’s hair. “God, your mouth is perfect.”

“You should pull out when you come.” Louis’ voice is far away but distinct. “Come on his tongue so we can all see it.”

Harry lets out a strangled moan in response, and then he’s doing as Louis says, withdrawing and nudging Zayn’s mouth further open with his thumb. Zayn sticks out his tongue, locking eyes with Louis as Harry finishes himself off with a few quick pumps of his fist, body-warm spurts of come coating Zayn’s tongue and dribbling down around the sides of his mouth. He’s never thought about someone jizzing on him until now, but in the heat of the moment, he’s surprisingly into it. He swallows what he can as he’s jolted by Liam’s thrusts, his chin messy with it. He closes his eyes and rides out the feeling, the pleasure building with the steady rub of Liam’s cock against his insides.

“So good, so fucking good,” Liam murmurs, and then his voice is a lot closer as he drapes himself along Zayn’s back, thrusting fast and shallow, needy as he chases his release. “Zayn, you’re so good, you’re perfect, you—”

He cuts off in a whine, rabbits into Zayn one more time and comes. Zayn feels Liam’s dick flex inside him, the throbbing pulse of it, and his own cock jumps hard against his stomach. He’s desperate for it, thinks he’s going to die if someone doesn’t touch him right now. He keens, embarrassingly high-pitched, when Liam pulls out. Come slips out of him in a slimy, rapidly cooling trail, and he might blush if all his blood wasn’t directed elsewhere.

Warm, sure hands roll him over onto his back, gently rearranging him. He’s still on edge, but it feels slightly less urgent when he can see them: Liam hitching Zayn’s thighs over his own crossed legs, Harry letting him use his lap as a pillow, Niall crawling into view with a sweet, lopsided smile.

“Where’s Louis?” he asks, his voice croaky from disuse.

“Right here,” Louis says fondly, smacking a kiss to his forehead. “Nialler’s gonna blow you now.”

Niall ducks in and gives Zayn a kiss too, square on the mouth, with just a flash of tongue.

“Got some business to attend to,” he says, patting Zayn’s cheek, and then he’s shimmying down to where Liam’s got him spread out, so close to the edge that his dick keeps jerking against his stomach, drooling precome everywhere.

Niall’s mouth is hot and sleek inside, wet and inviting, and he tenses up in an effort not to come immediately, eyes screwed shut. Niall moves up and down over the head, moving his hand torturously slowly over the shaft. Hands are petting him everywhere: the insides of his thighs, his chest, his scalp, and he can’t hold out any longer, his balls drawn up so tight it aches.

“Come on,” Louis says.

“You can let go now.” It’s the sound of Liam’s voice, quietly commanding and filled with the love that he can feel radiating from all of them, that sends him over the edge.

Zayn comes for what feels like a long time, filling up Niall’s mouth and shuddering through it, seeing flashes of red and purple behind his eyelids. He whines when Niall keeps suckling after he’s done, finally has to push his head away, twitching with oversensitivity. Niall kisses him on the palm as he moves aside, cuddling close.

***

He drifts a little as he comes down, loose-limbed and sated, but he’s soon aware of movement around him. When he blinks and looks up, he sees the undersides of Liam’s and Louis’ chins, their mouths pressed together in a lipping, biting kiss, Liam’s hand gripping the side of Louis’ neck. The immediate resurgence of lust is unexpected and feels too big for his body. His cock has just gone down and he can’t possibly get hard again that quickly, but he throbs with want anyway, feeling like he’s going to float away. The trail of kisses Niall presses to his shoulder grounds him again, and when he pushes his hips against the side of Zayn’s leg, it’s clear that Niall’s had enough time to recover.

“Think you can take another cock?” Niall murmurs, low and dirty, lazily grinding against him.

Rolling his head to look at him, Zayn bites his lip. He’s not sure, if he’s honest, but when Niall’s breath mingles with his own, he feels his dick try to fill up again. They kiss, Niall soothing over where Zayn’s teeth just were, and yeah, he can do this, he can take Niall into his body where he’s already stretched and wet.

They’re all tangled up in the bed now, and it takes some wrangling to reposition themselves. Harry gives his shoulder a cheeky bite as they manoeuvre together: Zayn still on his back, but with Niall between his legs, Harry kneeling between Zayn and Liam, who looks over to smile at him as Louis pushes his knees apart.

Niall slicks himself quickly, chucking the lube to Louis, and prods at Zayn’s rim with an experimental finger. When it slips in easily, he grins down at Zayn.

“Let me know if it’s too much, yeah?”

The stretch around Niall’s dick isn’t quite as sharp as the first time, but he’s sore and sensitive inside, and he feels the drag of every inch as it spears into him. Next to him, Harry’s touching himself, just thumbing over the head of his cock as he looks from Zayn to Liam. He turns his head so he can see Liam too, watches his profile as Louis scissors his fingers in and out of Liam’s arse. Harry bends himself in half, blocking Zayn’s view, and he can hear the wet sounds of kissing. A hard thrust from Niall brings his attention back to him, jarring him up the bed a little.

“You feel amazing, Zayn. Brilliant.”

He glows under the praise, reaching out to grip Harry’s thigh as Niall drives into him, hitching Zayn’s hips up to meet each thrust. Harry coaxes his hand further up and he takes the hint, wraps his fingers around his dick. Harry covers it with his own hand and guides him, the two of them wanking him together. The next time he turns his head, Liam’s staring at Zayn, mouth open as Louis nails into the heart of him. A couple of shifts of his shoulders bring his face closer, Liam doing the same so they can reach each other’s mouths. It’s a sloppy kiss, uncoordinated with the way both of them are getting fucked, but it’s reassuring anyway, that same summer-bright taste on Liam’s tongue. Zayn thinks he probably still tastes like Harry’s come, and his back arches off the bed at the memory of it, being pinned between Harry’s cock in his mouth and Liam’s in his arse. He squeezes down around Niall, drawing a punched out grunt from him.

“Can I come on you?” Niall asks. “Fuck, I really want to.”

It takes effort to peel away from Liam’s mouth and nod. He’s all keyed up again, fully hard and feeling that delicious deep soreness inside. Niall pulls out and Harry removes his hand from his own cock, reaching across to help him out. It only takes a few tugs before Niall’s painting stripes of warm come over Zayn’s stomach and chest, Harry steadily working him through it and milking out every drop.

“Jesus,” Louis breathes out, his tone almost reverent.

Zayn looks up and catches his eye, manages a small, fucked out smile. Harry’s shuffling around above him, pressing up against the back of Niall, but Zayn’s not paying attention to them, watches Louis’ long, sure thrusts into Liam, the flex of Liam’s calves as he drums his heels against Louis’ arse. It’s so hot, Zayn’s content just to watch them for now, Niall’s come drying sticky on his skin. He’ll feel disgusting later, but it makes the arousal at the pit of his stomach coil tighter, knowing that he’s been marked with it, claimed by Niall the same way he was claimed by Liam and Harry earlier.

Niall braces over him now, Harry whispering into his ear as his hand moves between Niall’s legs. When he strains to listen, Zayn can hear Harry say, “Gonna fuck you so deep, gonna fill you up.”

Niall’s voice goes breathy as he responds with an eager, “Yeah.”

The way Niall keens when Harry pushes into him tugs at Zayn’s gut, makes him want to be the one doing the fucking. Thinking about the heft of Harry in his mouth, he can’t believe Niall’s taking it all, hands planted on either side of Zayn’s ribcage and his head thrown back, his mouth forming a pink circle as Harry bottoms out.

The sight of it seems to spur Louis on too, his thrusts going faster and more erratic, bouncing Liam up the bed. Louis lets out a steady stream of curses as he gets close, holding Liam down with a hand in the middle of his chest. Zayn watches his hips stutter to a stop, the clenching of his arse as he empties himself inside Liam.

Above him, Harry hauls Niall up with an arm across his chest, the two of them rising up on their knees, Niall’s body bowing back into Harry. Niall is flushed pink everywhere, blotches of colour on his cheeks and chest, his stomach. He keeps huffing out air like he can’t remember how breathing works, pliant and lovely as Harry holds him up and fucks him.

Zayn fists his own cock and starts to work himself over, intent on the display in front of him. He’s not expecting the knock of Liam’s knuckles against his wrist. Louis moves Zayn’s legs and Liam tugs him sideways, the two of them getting Zayn right where they want him. He’s a little out of it and it’s hard to focus on what they’re doing, but he trusts them — even when he knows it’s going to be a disaster, he trusts Louis and Liam, always. What they’ve got planned right now is definitely something good, from the way Louis is smirking down at him over Liam’s shoulder as Liam straddles Zayn’s lap, and oh, fuck.

Liam’s body swallows Zayn’s cock, sheathing it in tight, perfect heat. It’s so good, Zayn’s vision blurs, his breath catching in his throat. Someone is making these soft, hurt mewling noises, and it takes Zayn a long time to realise that it’s him. He comes back into his body enough to lift his hips, rocking up into Liam as he rides Zayn, Louis’ helping hands on his hips. He’s out of his mind with pleasure, his boys taking care of him again, and he loses all track of time, not sure if it’s twenty seconds or twenty minutes before he comes. Louis pins Liam down on Zayn’s dick, his rim clinging tight around the base as Zayn spends himself for the second time that night. Zayn looks up at both of them in awe and Liam lets out a ragged breath, coming the second Louis drags a finger along the underside of his cock, all over his own chest and throat.

He can’t even form thoughts, let alone words, just lies there boneless as Liam collapses onto him, controlling the fall at the last moment so he doesn’t crush Zayn underneath. Liam snuffles at him like a puppy, dragging his open mouth over Zayn’s skin as if he can’t get it together enough to purse his lips. Louis tucks himself in against Zayn’s other side, and all three of them turn to look at Niall and Harry.

What they see is absolutely filthy, Niall with his head pillowed on his arms and his arse tilted up to Harry’s face. Harry makes obscene slurping noises as he licks his own come out of Niall, tonguing in deep, and by the time he’s done, Niall’s wailing, riding back against his mouth like it’s both too much and not enough.

Harry finally lets him go, pushes him gently towards Liam and spreads out next to him, throwing an arm and a leg over so he’s touching as many of them as he can. They lie there in a sweaty, heaving mass, catching their breath. This time, none of them tries to go for another round, and it doesn’t take long for Zayn to fall asleep, surrounded by all four of his boys.

***

When Zayn wakes up in the middle of the night, the first thing he notices is that the room is dark and someone’s pulled the duvet up over them. The second thing he notices is that he’s desperate for a wee. He carefully untangles himself from the knot of limbs, knowing Louis will sleep through being shoved off, whereas Liam’s a light sleeper and needs to be moved carefully or he’ll startle awake. Harry’s wheezing away, starfished on top of Niall, and they’re all stark naked.

He tiptoes across the carpet to the bathroom and closes the door behind him so he can flick on the light. The tiles are cold beneath his feet, and he slowly registers the soreness in his muscles and oh god, in his arse. His skin is tacky with dried come and sweat.

After he relieves himself, he grabs a fluffy white hand towel and runs it under the faucet. He cleans off his chest and stomach as best he can without taking a proper shower, wipes down his thighs and hisses slightly as he runs the damp towel between his legs.

It always takes Zayn forever to wake up properly, his brain not really catching up to his body until later. It comes back to him in flashes: the overwhelming need to get off, the sweet scent on everyone’s breath, the strange pink banana Harry ate. There was definitely something wrong with it, drugs or poison or maybe some sort of radioactive isotope. He feels a bit panicked thinking about how weird things will be when the rest of them wake up tomorrow, how they’re all exhausted and sore after all the group sex they had, and how they’ve got another show to do in the evening. Zayn really doesn’t want to deal with it, if he’s honest, so he splashes some water on his face and dries it on a clean towel, shutting off the light before he leaves the bathroom.

He briefly considers grabbing one of their keys and using one of the other bedrooms, but if anything, that’ll make things more weird. Besides, it seems sort of lonely when everyone else is in here, in his bed, and Zayn does love a cuddle. On the way back to the bed, he manages to trip over something. He catches himself as he stumbles, but he can’t help the little noise that slips out.

“Shit.”

“Zayn?”

He freezes at the sound of Liam’s voice, and then relaxes, still trying to walk quietly even though he’s woken him already. “Yeah, it’s me. Just got up to have a wee.”

Liam stretches a little, scooting closer to the others to make room. Zayn climbs under the covers next to him, and Liam takes his hand. It’s a little awkward to be naked like this now that they’re not in the throes of some sort of banana-induced sex pheromones, but under the cover of night, Zayn can deal.

“I think the banana was drugged,” he says.

“Hm? Oh, the pink banana?” He can feel Liam’s head move against the pillow as he nods. “That would explain a lot.”

“This is going to be awkward in the morning,” Zayn sighs.

Rumbly and sleepy-sounding, Liam’s voice is comforting. “Is it? It’s just us.”

He has a point: most everything in their lives is unbelievable, bordering on absurd. What’s one more shared secret, one more strange adventure that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else?

“Don’t worry about it,” Liam says, wrapping his other arm around Zayn’s back, letting him snuggle in closer.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” It’s quite weird to think they were acting under the influence of a drug or whatever it was, but he can’t really bring himself to be ashamed of anything they did, either.

Liam presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Love you, Zayn. See you in the morning.”

His sleepy sweetness brings a smile to Zayn’s face, and he rubs his fingers through the soft fuzz of Liam’s closely cropped hair until they both fall asleep again, listening to the noises the others make in their sleep. The last thought Zayn has before drifting off is that yeah, it’s them, so everything’s gonna be alright.


End file.
